


A Night at Camp

by violaeade



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaeade/pseuds/violaeade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based off a prompt I saw on tumblr a while ago: "Clarke working herself to the bone in the dropship all day and she ends so exhausted that she falls sleep on a corner, and Bellamy comes looking for her and found her like that so she carries her to her tent bridal style and when he tucks her into her bed she tucks at his hand and muffle "stay, you are warm." So he takes off his boots and lays besides her and they end up spooning and limb entangled in the morning."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night at Camp

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first piece of writing i'm uploading here! i'd appreciate any sort of response to it! hope u enjoy

6:37 pm 

 

Bellamy walks with Clarke back to the dropship after they scrounge up whatever dinner they can find. They walk in familiar silence, and they’re close enough that their arms brush every few steps. Clarke is yawning every few seconds, and Bellamy can’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, and the way her eyes droop a little. He knows Clarke’s exhausted, and he wants to let her take a break and sleep tonight, but there are so many sick and injured at camp, and Clarke is all they have. 

They reach the dropship, and Clarke stops to stare at the machine that brought them to earth in the first place. The dropship has become a familiar comfort to everyone on the ground, a reminder of the fact that they survived the trip down, and all the obstacles they’ve faced since. For Clarke, it has become a symbol of her unending work and the weariness that comes from never stopping to rest. It’s almost a prison to her. Bellamy can read all of this off Clarke’s face as he watches her watch the ship, and he sees her close her eyes before forcing herself to step towards the doors. 

“I’ll swing by later, okay?” Bellamy calls out before Clarke is inside. She turns back, smiles, and nods appreciatively, before she tends to her patients. 

Bellamy worries about her. 

 

9:24 pm 

 

“Ow! Stop! That hurts!” Someone cries from the dropship. 

“Please, I need to put your shoulder back into its socket,” Clarke says, infinitely patient, “and I need to move it to do that.”

Bellamy walks inside and stashes his gun in the waistband of his pants. He just finished a perimeter check and was just about ready to collapse, but he promised he’d go see Clarke again, so here he is. She’s sitting with a girl named Lillian, who fell into a Grounder trap tonight on patrol and dislocated her shoulder. She’s biting her lip and watching Clarke’s every move, expecting pain every second, which makes every little movement hurt. 

“Ow!” she cries again. 

Clarke makes Lillian meet her eyes and tells her, “I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon, okay? Just hold on a few minutes, for me.” 

Lillian still looks scared, but nods. Clarke takes a deep breath, shifts around closer to Lillian, and notices Bellamy in the room. 

Her features smooth into relief and her eyes light up when she sees him. His stomach twists itself into knots. “Oh, Bellamy, thank God, can you help me out here? Please?” Clarke sounds like she’s practically begging for help, so what else could he do?

He crouches next to her and asks, “What do you need?”

Clarke bites the inside of her cheek and looks at Bellamy, who is sitting close enough that he can smell the sweat and antiseptic on her. Her eyes are alert and beautiful and unwavering when she says, “Hold her down.” 

Bellamy does, and he watches Clarke as she shoves the poor girl’s arm back into place. Her features look sharp and determined the entire time, a great contrast to how she looked a few minutes before when Bellamy walked in. He watches the pain Clarke feels at hurting someone else, even if it’s for her benefit, and she doesn’t back off when Lillian starts screaming again. Bellamy has seen this side of Clarke before, the side of her that will do what needs getting done even when it’s hard, like the time she killed Atom to end his suffering and to spare Bellamy from doing it. He always respects Clarke, but it’s during these moments that he feels the respect even deeper. She’s so strong, and he knows he’ll never be quite that strong, not the way she is. His chest is swelling at the thought of Clarke, brave Clarke, doing what needs to be done every single day even though she’s so damn tired of it all. He watches her dirty hair falling from behind her ears and the way she quickly puts it back in place; he watches her scrunch her nose in concentration and narrow her eyes at the problem in front of her; he watches her lick her lips and steel herself for whatever she’s got to do next. He watches her and all he sees is beauty and strength. 

He’s so busy watching her that he doesn’t realize she’s finished shoving Lillian’s shoulder back into place, and she turns to look at him. They hold each other’s gazes for a few seconds before she looks away, brushing more hair behind her ears, and pushing herself up from her crouched position. Bellamy stands up, too. 

“Lillian, you’re going to be fine,” Clarke soothes. “I’m going to let you get some rest now, alright?”

“Okay,” Lillian murmurs back, already falling asleep. 

Clarke sighs, stretches her legs, and turns to the next patient. 

 

12:08 am

 

Bellamy keeps rolling around in his eternally uncomfortable sleeping bag, feeling like he’s forgetting something but can’t remember what he’s forgotten. He sighs, frustrated, and decides to just get up. He’s not sleeping anyways, as per usual, so he may as well do another perimeter check or something. He pulls on his boots and his jacket and pushes out of his tent. The air is crisp and cold, and he shivers, already regretting this decision. He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to head for the gate when he notices that there are still lights on in the dropship. Raven made some great lanterns for the camp to use, but they’re not supposed to be used too often. Bellamy tells himself that he’s walking back to the dropship to make sure the lights aren’t being used too much, not to see Clarke again. 

When he walks in, sure enough, the lanterns are still on, even though everyone’s asleep. Even Clarke. She’s curled up in the corner of the ship, shivering and clutching at her arms. She must have passed out on the job, because otherwise she would have stumbled to her tent. Bellamy turns off the lanterns, walks to the corner, and scoops up Clarke. She immediately presses herself against his chest and sighs quietly in her sleep, and Bellamy feels a smile creeping onto his lips. She’s just so cute. 

He walks slowly out of the dropship, trying not to jostle Clarke too much. He doesn’t want to wake her up, because she might insist on going back to work or something, even though she’s obviously bone tired. In the moonlight, Clarke’s skin looks pale and smooth, and Bellamy wants to trace his fingers over every inch of her face and understand the contours that make up Clarke Griffin. He feels hypnotized by this beautiful, sleeping girl in his arms as he carries her back to her tent, and though he usually tries to push down the feelings he unwittingly developed for Clarke, tonight feels different. There is literally no one else watching, not even Clarke. This moment is for Bellamy, and only Bellamy, and he doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t think Clarke is extraordinary and amazing: he can let himself feel whatever he feels for her. 

He’s almost sad when he gets to Clarke’s tent. He lays her gently on the sleeping bag, and debates for second whether or not he should take off some of her layers, but then she shivers and he decides not to. He somehow started holding Clarke’s hand, and his thumb is making lazy circles on the back of her hand. He sighs, knowing he has to go, and just when he’s about to let go and turn away, Clarke grabs onto his hand. 

“Bellamy?” she whispers. 

“Yeah?” he says, his voice low. 

“Hi.”

He breathes a laugh. “Hi, Clarke.”

She stretches a tired arm over her head and yawns again before saying, “I want you to stay here.”

Bellamy feels the entire world stop moving for a second. He can’t seem to catch his breath, or close his mouth, or respond in any way. 

“You’re really warm,” Clarke croons. “And I’m really cold.”

Bellamy’s heart is racing, and he swallows hard as he kicks off his boots and gingerly eases himself onto Clarke’s bed. He’s waiting for her to realize what’s happening and yell and throw him out, but as he lays down next to her, all Clarke does is wiggle herself closer. He ends up spooning her, and they’re touching in practically every place they can. Bellamy’s thinking about her butt against his groin most of all, which he’s fighting very hard to keep under control, thank you very much. But as Clarke falls back asleep against him, snuggling closer and closer as she does, and as his arm goes around her waist and he touches her stomach, and as she sticks her feet between his to warm them up, Bellamy starts to drift to sleep, feeling more peaceful than ever before. His face finds a nice crook in Clarke’s neck to rest in, and he breathes her in. He can’t explain the sensation in any way other than bliss. 

 

6:55 am

 

She starts to stir first, which rouses Bellamy, even though he never wants to leave whatever peace he’s found. He opens his eyes lazily, and can feel every place where Clarke is touching him. They shifted around in the night, and Clarke is now facing him, his arm pinned beneath her head. Her hands are on his chest and their legs are so tangled he doesn’t know how they’ll ever detach themselves from each other. 

Bellamy manages to open his eyes fully, and meets Clarke’s a whole two inches away. He immediately forgets how to breathe again, and just stares and stares at Clarke. She looks better, more rested and bright than he’s seen in a while. Her cheeks are flushed, and he can’t tell if it’s from his warmth or from him, but he knows what he hopes it is. 

“You’ve got some serious bedhead, Blake,” Clarke says, smiling and driving Bellamy crazy. 

He smirks at her. “You’re one to talk, Princess.” 

She huffs, but she’s still smiling, and neither is ready to roll away and get on with the day. Bellamy can’t stop staring at her lips, can’t stop thinking about how much he just wants to press them to his own and kiss her until he can’t remember his own name. He can feel his resolve crumbling as Clarke bites her lip, obviously thinking about something, but he still can’t get the image of kissing her out of his head. 

“Bellamy…” his name is breathless coming from her, as if she can’t catch her breath, either. 

And that’s when he snaps. He closes the small space between them and presses his lips hard against Clarke’s, pouring all the unsaid things and ignored feelings between them into the kiss and feels Clarke enthusiastically kiss him back. Her hands move from his chest to his hair, and she digs her fingers into his bedhead, and he starts to suck on Clarke’s bottom lip. She groans, and he wraps his arms completely around that beautiful girl and rolls her onto her back. She wraps her legs around his hips and he’s already losing himself in this moment, this moment with Clarke Griffin, and all he can think about is how great she tastes, even in the morning. She pushes herself even harder against him and he brings his hands to her face and cups her cheeks. 

They pull away for a second, panting in each other’s faces, each waiting for the other to dive back in again. But they wait for a moment longer, just watching each other’s eyes, as they seem to do often, feeling the exhilaration that comes with kissing someone you’ve been wanting to kiss for a long time. 

“I think you’re going to be late to the dropship today,” Bellamy says and leans down to kiss her again.


End file.
